


Hotel Hell; Episode 23

by bbbutter



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Cannibalism, F/F, Freeform, Gen, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbbutter/pseuds/bbbutter
Summary: Charlie grabbed a stool next to her partner, who jumped at the action, “Oh my god, where’ve you been?” Next to her, a full shot- she'd assumed vodka, from the strong smell. As Charlie hitched a leg around the seat, her hand was gripped- clasped in a palm of content. Her stomach cartwheeled, whether from intoxication or not was unbeknownst to her, “Are you drunk?”She hiccupped.HOTEL HELL; DEPRESSED OWNER AND STAFF HAVE LOST ALL HOPE FOR RESTAURANTThe hotel is a failure, Gordon Ramsay just died; put two and two together, you get a renewal of the 'Hotel Hell' show, only streamed on twitch by android.
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Kudos: 9





	Hotel Hell; Episode 23

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmmmmmmmm the animationnnnnnnnn

Despite it hell, the halls more blue than red.

With her head held low, Charlie crept. And past an ear-shattering silence, only the patter of footsteps prevailed- dripping, like droplets from a leaking tap and into a cold, barren sink. She stared, despite her fleeting sight. Static. Just below, the carpet a dull wine, with grey dust layered 'pon it as though mold. The drowned colors filtered through a haze of watering vision, which further slurred into drunken whirlpools as she trailed farther.

_“This afternoon, we’re receiving word of…”_

Empty echoes of steps… then they stopped. Where the corridor ended, an open area- a plaza, only of beer and TV- began. Vomit-inducing; the stench of cheap alcohol lingered, staining and soiling whatever passed its toxic fumes. _T_ umbling forward- she rested a hand at a convenient corner, searching. The ceiling lamps were dimmed, and with the curtains drawn, hints of light trickled through the bare corners. Within the casted highlights wafts of dirt floated, too in tipsy fashion. Some staff reclined, sprawled on tattered cushions and makeshift pillows of grime. And the tables hoisted fields of bottles; catalysts for breeding laze. And to her left, the bar.

Its neon lights flickered in invitation, tempting and attractive as ever- one stool lay occupied by Vaggie. Candy-wrappers, crushed cans and all litter alike plagued the floor. With her foot, she nudged at the remains, parting, kicking, and stumbling forward with a crinkled nose.

She grabbed a stool next to her partner, who jumped at the action, “Oh my god, where’ve you been?” Next to her, a full shot- she'd assumed vodka, from the strong smell. As Charlie hitched a leg around the seat, her hand was gripped- clasped in a palm of content. Her stomach cartwheeled, whether from intoxication or not was unbeknownst to her, “Are you drunk?”

She hiccupped.

“Oh my god _, you’re drunk_.” The hand was shaken off, “What if people see- _why’re you here_?” Once more her hand extended, and stilled on the flesh of Charlie’s right arm. A shiver resonated through her veins at the warmth of Vaggie’s palm. This time, she leaned into the touch, as a rocking embrace of sleep began to engulf her.

Across from the scene the bartender, Husk, rested an elbow as he gestured to Charlie, “You?”

“… _Anything strong._ ”

He nodded, and turned to whisk a glass and bottle from under the counter-piece. With an elbow and fist she supported a crashing mind, tapping at the wooden surface with her left hand, in rhythm to a commercial jingle she'd heard sometime, somewhere. Even then, however, Charlie sensed the unease beside her. She shifted and, unsurprisingly, a glare greeted her back, "...What? You got booze, too.”

“But I’m not about to blackout.” A glass slid towards her. Charlie reached, but it was knocked from her view. “She’ll have water,” Vaggie retracted her arm, and so the cold reigned again. The contents were promptly poured onto the floor, then placed back. Charlie rubbed at the ghost of heat where a sense of comfort once rested.

Husk gave a confused look, “…I’ll give you two a minute.” He grasped the glass and, with a stray handkerchief, wiped the inside.

_“Breaking news; celebrity found dead in his own restaurant-!”_

An ugly pause. It strained the silence. Now, only the dimmed voices from the TV seeped through. Vaggie kept her now-cold hands occupied by fidgeting with her beverage, passing it from palm to palm,“…Why aren’t you at the desk?” She didn’t spare Charlie a glance.

“Why ar-“ Hiccup, “…aren’t you… um, waitress-ing?”

She gripped the drink, knuckles already white. “There’s no one to serve!”

“Figures,” A glass. “ _Thaaank you,"_ The water was downed in one swig.

_“Chef Gordon Ramsay, boiled alive in his own, giant kettle-!”_

“…Why don’t we call him?” She mumbled.

“You’re drunk, go sleep.”

“ _…But why don’t we…?_ ”

“Charlie, not this agai-“

“What do we have to lose?” Their heads turned. Husk moved about the bar nonchalantly, checking and correcting. Gingerly, he faced them- with a gaze still locked on the bottles which rummaged his hands every minute, “Alastor could bullshit some kind of phonebook from thin air, we’d use that.”

“He helps restaurants, though!” She slammed her drink into the table, the blow resounding in a thud which echoed and spilled the beverage in all directions. Mind wasn’t payed, however; it didn’t irk as special. “He’s a chef, what does he know about hotels?”

“You’d be surprised,” He said, “He’s got another show, Hell Hotel or something.”

“… _Yeah!_ ” Charlie slurred as she raised a fist, which just about missed Husk.

“ _No._ No chefs, no phonebook- none of that. How do we know he won’t film u-“

“Why, that sounds like an _excellent_ idea- _a phonebook._ I do believe I could summon something of that sort,” Alastor's presence now loomed from behind them. With that, he waved a quick gesture, where a black mass formed into a sturdy book of a few hundred cold-pressed pages. He skimmed through the pages, observing, “Say, what’s his name again-? Gordon… A… E… G…”

_"The suspects are currently his own Oompa Loompas-"_

“What, you doin’ this now?” He pointed with a bottle, “We’ll need Niffty to run errands before he comes, look at this fucking place- bottles, bottles, piss, spilled vodka-“

“Well, that’s precisely the reason we need him here, no?” Now with a phone in hand, he tapped the screen, “I’m beginning to grow… weary, of this mess too.”

“Just use your sketchy voodoo shit, then!” Another thud.

“Quite frankly, I’m tired of wasting my precious powers on the wrongdoings of others. I’m an entertainer, not some cleaning lady.”

Husk was now leaning on the bar, with a drink in hand and an everlasting frown as he turned to Alastor, “...You sure this’ll work, though?”

“Positive, my friend; I say it’ll be fine. My charisma and charm is unmatched, him and his crew will be lining outside that door the second I make the call. Just you wait, and remain patient…” He pressed the phone to his ear, closing the book in one hand as it crumbled from existence, “Yes? Good afternoon, good sir. I’d like to speak…” He and his voice trailed off to the adjacent side of the room, where the conversation continued. At the loss of his authority, Vaggie turned to grip Charlie’s shoulders, securing her wandering gaze.

“Charlie. Whatever you do, don’t let this ha-“

“Let the girl make her own damn choices. You’re a partner, not her parent,” Vaggie didn’t move. Her eyes were still locked to Charlie’s- Charlie, who heard the gritting of teeth before her. She leaned away from her grasp, which prompted Vaggie to strike the side of the bar. Husk stared blankly as she bent forward, hand rummaging under the counter as a bottle was seized, crashed open and chugged.

“Good— _Great_ news, everyone! Oh… What’s with this one?” Alastor appeared next to Husk, where he pointed to Vaggie as alcohol leaked down her chin. They shrugged, “…Anyhow, they’ll come by; the chef guy along with an experienced camera crew, I’m sure.”

“And when is that?”

He swung an arm around Husk, “Be patient, friend; time is of the essence, they’ll arrive when they- …I believe they’re here.”

Charlie looked up from where her head lay in her arms- a gaze with as much precision as a splatter of paint, “ _Whaaa…?_ How would _you_ know…?” A knock followed.

**Author's Note:**

> motivation is food and i am a starving child in africa
> 
> anway cannibalism is next chapter, im hoping to publish abt three. also millie+moxie own my heart ill add them and their song too


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